


Two For One

by Arlome



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Ancient History, F/M, Religion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-12 00:23:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18000254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arlome/pseuds/Arlome
Summary: Two ficlets about our favourite Devil and his past life, written high in the clouds above the skies of eastern Europe.For the Lucifer Bingo prompt, 'time travel (to the past)'.





	Two For One

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote these two little darlings on my way to Moscow in a very sleep deprived state.  
> Hope you guys like them:)

**To Be or Not to Be**

_Lucifer has the best Top Shelf in all L.A.,_ Chloe muses as she takes another sip from her accidental cocktail of Amaretto, Rum and Coke - _the Devil really_ is _a man of wealth and taste._

She lowers herself unto the piano bench and places her tumbler somewhat shakily on the lid next to a rather inebriated Ella, who is lying flat on her back on the cool, polished surface, and singing a terrible off-key version of _Unbreak my Heart._

“Do you want me to play _Heart and Soul?”_ Chloe hollers, already running her fingers clumsily on the poor keys, “See, that’s the only song I know.” 

Above her, Ella flips on her belly, her jaunty ponytail sliding from the sleek wood and unto the keyboard.

“I’ve got a better idea!” she cries gleefully, perching her chin on her folded arms, “Let’s go search for Lucifer’s _Toys_ drawer; he _must_ have one!”

“He does!” Maze cries from her seat on the sofa and Linda groans her approval from the armchair. 

There’s something oddly familiar about the whole scenario, and Chloe is assaulted by a heavy dose of Deja-vu. Surely, she’s been through this before? Wasn’t she looking for something else in Lucifer’s closet?

But, no - that was the sock drawer, and they never actually got to that part.

She wonders briefly if Lucifer would mind such an intrusion into his privacy, but before she can decide on the matter and convince herself to sober up and leave the penthouse, Ella slides off the piano and charges ahead. Next thing she knows, the tribe is being led by an eager demon up the stairs to the Devil’s quarters. 

Lucifer’s closet is bigger than Chloe’s bedroom, but she tries not to be too bitter about it. Lines and shelves of suits, and shoes, and shirts and fucking _cufflinks_ surround her and overload her sensory input. Behind her, Ella gasps dramatically. 

“Man, dude sure has a lot of clothes,” the forensic scientist whistles appreciatively, and Chloe has to agree with her, “I bet all these suits cost more than my yearly rent!”

“And then some!” Maze adds unhelpfully from the front of the line, cackling like an old, demented witch.

Chloe’s about to admonish the demon, but something colourful peeking from behind a rack of black suit jackets catches her eye, and the drunk detective in her just can’t help herself. She reaches out, pushes the jackets out of the way, and _stares._

The uncovered rack in like nothing she has ever seen before. Several very colourful, very old, outfits are embracing the dangling hangers in a very orderly fashion. A white toga, made of the softest wool; a doublet and matching pantaloons in emerald green, embroidered with a silver thread and adorned with mother-of-pearl buttons; a genuine Highlands kilt, with a shaggy looking sporran; a glittery, checkered leotard that would have put some of Bowie’s 70’s outfits to shame.

Chloe’s brain short-circuits. 

These outfits – all these outfits – are relics of Lucifer’s past, mementoes of his time on earth, of vacations well spent; memories in the form of cloth and scent.

And the countless suits is the room around them – are they to become long-distance memories once she and the others are all gone and only _he_ remains? 

Chloe’s buzz dies a painful death, and she suddenly finds herself unbearably forlorn. 

An awed gasp coming from behind her reminds Chloe of the other women in the room, and she turns, apprehensive, to regard Ella with no small amount of trepidation.

Is this how her friend finally learns the truth?

Ella’s eyes are impossibly wide, a certain look of realisation reflected in them, but her mouth is stretched in a drunken grin.

“I _told_ you guys that Lucifer is a method actor!” she cries excitedly and laughs.

Maze, Linda, and Chloe share a knowing Look.

 _Sure,_ he is.

 

**Trumpets and Pipers**

The car is silent save for Ella’s good-natured chatter. 

It’s still very early in the day, and the sun is not finished yet with its diligent, strenuous climb towards high heavens; the cool morning is nice and bright, and altogether lovely – so, naturally, they have a new case of a brutal murder on their hands. 

The unlikely trio made up of one Devil, one single mom, and one bouncy science nerd is already at the precinct, enjoying their morning coffee, when the body drops, so Ella decides to forgo her own wheels and catch a ride to the crime scene with Chloe and Lucifer instead. 

“- and I can’t believe I ever agreed to that blind date, but there you have it. ” Ella concludes her horror story of an outing, once they are well and truly on their way, and leans back against her seat, “Last time I’m going for _that,_ I swear; better die alone and be eaten by my 15 cats!”

Lucifer chuckles from the front seat at the dramatic conclusion to the lengthy tale, and Chloe smiles at the carefree sound.

“The gentleman was not to your liking, Miss Lopes?” he asks, obviously amused.

Ella groans.

“Dude, he was _vile,_ ” she moans, and hits her seat with her fist, “bad hygiene, bad manners, bad looks – the whole package! It’s the _last_ time I’m going out with anyone my Auntie Tina praises to the moon and back – I’ll tell you that.”

“He sounds dreamy,” Lucifer quips, and Chloe chuckles and punches him in the shoulder.

“Ouch,” he supplies appropriately, smiling at her openly, and Chloe turns to watch the road, her cheeks full of blood and heat.

She clears her throat and looks at Ella briefly in the rare-view mirror.

“I’m sorry, babe,” she says sympathetically, “it all sounds pretty awful.”

Ella nods morosely, accepting her due condolences for her dearly departed love life, and the car occupants settle into a peaceful, friendly silence. After a while, Chloe reaches towards the car radio, muttering something about ‘some music’.

A few twists and turns this way and that, and a familiar crackle filters through the speakers, and Johnny Cash’s deep voice starts preaching about Armageddon. 

Chloe can’t change the channel fast enough; one side-look at Lucifer is all it takes. He sits in his seat, rigid as a corpse, pale and drawn; his lovely eyes wide and unblinking, staring into chasms of aeons long gone.

“No!” Ella cries from the back and leans forward, placing her elbows on the back of Chloe and Lucifer’s seats, “I love this song, Chlo’; please, put it back on!”

Chloe casts an uneasy glance at her partner.

“Ella, I don’t think the song is to Lucifer’s liking,” she begins softly, but the Devil suddenly shakes his head, and turns to the window.

“I don’t mind,” he intones, his voice hollow and ancient.

“Are you sure, buddy?” Ella asks uncertainly, frowning a little, “it’s okay if you- “

“Absolutely. ” He concedes, interrupting her question, “Go on, Detective; put the song back on for Miss Lopez.”

“Well, if you’re sure…” Ella offers, leaning backwards.

Lucifer nods, but doesn’t turn from the window, “I am.”

Johnny Cash is back with a vengeance, strumming his guitar and singing of one hundred million angels, and trumpets, and pipers, and righteous men. Chloe glances at her partner’s turned head and _aches._

Ella is singing at the back seat, reassured and oblivious to the world; Chloe’s hand comes to rest on Lucifer’s thigh.

“Hey,” she whispers, dividing her attention between him and the road, “you okay?”

He turns to her, and his fathomless eyes are moist and haunted. 

“You know,” he says instead of answering, and his voice is mild like root beer, “It’s not really accurate – apart from the singing and the trumpets, of course.”

“Yeah?” she murmurs, smiling sadly, her fingers smoothing the fabric of his trousers, and she longs, she _yearns_ to reassure him, to make him smile openly at her again, “I bet you were the best singer of all your brothers and sisters, and they’re absolutely useless without you now.”

His warm fingers find her hand, and something in her chest flutters at the touch.

“Do you think it is possible to be homesick for a place you never considered a home?” he asks timidly, not taking his eyes off her face, as if hers is the only opinion that matters, “To be homesick for a memory, or an idea?”

Chloe squeezes his fingers, and stares at the road; her eyes are clouding a little, and she blinks and nods.

“Yes,” she breathes, and squeezes his fingers again for good measure, “Yes.” 

Lucifer brings their entwined hands to his lips and presses a heated kiss to her skin.

Johnny’s voice crackles and dies.

**Author's Note:**

> The absolutely brilliant [swankkat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/swankkat/pseuds/swankkat) drew a lovely picture of Lucifer and Chloe in the car. I am so happy, I could really cry. Thank you, lady!  
> Here it is:  
> https://swankkat.tumblr.com/post/185397551114/chloe-squeezes-his-fingers-and-stares-at-the

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Home](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19166239) by [swankkat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/swankkat/pseuds/swankkat)




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